Ghost of a Rose
by Girl of Blue Fire
Summary: What sowed the seeds for Robert's Rebellion? The first feast at Harrenhal is a trial for Lyanna as the prospective Lady Baratheon, but she soon finds dancing with dragons might be a lot more dangerous... Lyanna x Rhaegar, Lyanna x Robert.


_Inspired by Blackmore's night - 'Ghost of A Rose', which I felt was appropriate for Rhaegar/Lyanna/Robert. I adore these characters and thank GRRM for creating them._

 _..._

The Hall of a Hundred Hearths was hot and close with tendrils of smoke spiralling up to its distant rafters. Lyanna could almost imagine dragons still lurked there as she tugged surreptitiously at her blue gown. It was said the vast chamber could have feasted an army, and while the gathering of so many nobles, their vassals and servants didn't number in the thousands it certainly felt and sounded like it. Many courses had been and gone with the lords now settling into their cups and the central area being prepared for dancing.

She picked at the remains of the wild boar on her plate, its skeleton still set before her, biting an apple and thankfully blocking the frequent red-faced glances of her betrothed.

 _Is he red because of me or the wine? Or both?_ She thought, daring a look to find a pair of intense blue eyes gazing longingly at her. Robert Baratheon flushed deeper when she caught him staring and then raised his goblet to her. She smiled and he hastily turned to talk to Richard Lonmouth who had become an unlikely bosom brother in the last few hours. The Knight of the Skulls and Kisses whispered something in Robert's ear whilst looking at her and he roared with laughter. She gave Lonmouth a look that Brandon had dubbed 'the She Wolf's eye' and the young knight turned as red and sheepish as his drinking companion but for an entirely different reason.

 _Are they so used to these little birds fainting over them?_ Lyanna thought, dismissing the dainty maids surrounding her in their silks and satins. _Well the stag wants to be wed to the wolf, so he'd best get used to me along with his friends._

She had promised her father she would be a good wife…well he had extracted the promise in the end and for the honour of House Stark even she could curb her worst of her rebelliousness, but she was not married to Robert yet. She probably wasn't going to be leaving the bedchamber in Storm's End for months anyway if some of the looks and comments of her betrothed were anything to go by and then she'd be too pregnant to move. This was perhaps her last chance at freedom.

Benjen's idea of justice for Howland Reed kept coming back to her but she repressed the frenetic planning of the afternoon. She needed to look innocent and besides too much excitement might incite a passionate declaration from Lord Baratheon and the last thing she needed was to be embarrassed in front of the nobility of Westeros. If she was going to be seen, it would be for herself alone and not for what some man could make of her. She glanced around the chamber to distract herself.

 _Although it is nice to be desired…and he is handsome…_ Lyanna told herself again. _At least I'm not another of Lord Frey's wives. Or Lord Arryn._ She felt guilty thinking that as she saw him talking to her father further down the table. Jon Arryn seemed a courteous man and both Ned and Robert had sung nothing but his praises. Her eyes picked through the crowds and found Prince Oberyn Martell - the Red Viper - on the high dais next to his brother and sister. The Dornish prince was a renowned warrior and breeder of horse flesh, and quite dashing despite his widow's peak.

 _I've always wanted to ride a Sand Steed…_ She sighed. _I bet it could have me well down the Kingsroad before anyone noticed I was gone. And in Dorne they let women become warriors…_ Perhaps she should have suggested the match to her father once his obsession with southron alliances became clear, but at that point she had still been resisting the notion with frequent long rides out of Winterfell and even longer sulks in her chambers.

Oberyn must have felt her gaze as he looked towards the Stark table and his lips quirked in a knowing smirk that made her feel like she had been letching. It was her turn to blush, then she felt angry.

 _As if I could ever marry someone like that. If Robert has one bastard, the Viper must have four by now…not counting all the men he's supposed to have poisoned…_

She let her eyes slide over him and on towards the Princess Elia who was feeding her husband grapes.

Lyanna sighed again. At least there was one example of a good marriage in the Hall. The Prince could have had his pick of women like his father and ancestors had done; but by all accounts, despite being possibly the most beautiful man Lyanna had ever seen, Rhaegar had remained faithful to Elia.

 _Would that all men were like that._ She thought. _It would make them easier to love…and easier to sacrifice for._

"Sighing over the good prince?" Brandon said by her side. "I thought the She Wolf had better sense than to dance with dragons?"

Lyanna gave him a withering look in lieu of wine cup she couldn't get away with. "I wasn't mooning over him, I merely thought they were sweet," she pitched her voice to carry over the pipes and laughter, "and faithfulness is such charming quality, do you not think?"

Brandon glanced at Robert over the laden table and his long Northern face became dark. "Indeed it is."

"Then perhaps you should stop your perusal of the Lady Ashara." Lyanna said pointedly. "You've been leering at her half the night and the Tullys are just over there."

Expecting a scathing retort, Lyanna blinked when Brandon's eyes twinkled.

"Not for me." He said with a grin that made him look like their sigil. "For Ned." He whispered and nodded towards their brother on her other side. He was staring at the lady of Starfall like he was facing the King's Justice instead of one of the most beautiful women in Westeros.

Lyanna clapped her hand over her mouth and turned to Brandon. "No!"

He nodded and whispered in her ear, his beard scratched her cheek. "Our Ned's in love! Look at him."

The siblings, looking more like twins in their glee, glanced between their forlorn brother and the lovely Ashara, their smiles widening. A fool tumbled past in motley to peels of laughter, but the funniest thing had to be Ned's desolate inspection of his half-full wine cup every time he tore his eyes from Ashara.

 _He's even worse than Robert!_

The Hall hushed slightly as the musicians warmed up their instruments and servants hurried to pick up the mountains of plates and refill cups.

"I'm going to ask her." Brandon said with a wink and stood up, drawing the eyes of many with no few women amongst them.

Lyanna grabbed his arm. "You're not!"

Ned was looking at them with dawning alarm but Brandon ignored him, giving the room a imperious stare. At that moment anyone would have thought him the Prince of Dragonstone. Then, as the notes of a song were taken up on strings and pipes, he turned back to her with that wicked grin.

"But not before we give these fine folk a taste of everything they will miss. Come sweet sister," he said, giving Robert a mocking nod, "you're not Lady Baratheon yet." Then he drew her to her feet with a sweeping bow and led her to the dancing floor.

"Stark! Are you stealing my betrothed?" Robert called after him.

"If you can't keep her, you don't deserve her!" Brandon said over his shoulder with a smirk and set Lyanna in the middle of a newly formed line of ladies. Lords faced them, bowing over their partners' hand and Lyanna laughed as her brother took her in his arms and swirled her round the room.

Brandon had a demon in his eye but as the candles in their thousand sconces whirled overhead like stars, Lyanna couldn't bring herself to care. At last the monstrous castle with its dragon-burnt towers and highborn hordes felt like home. She didn't have to be the prospective, dutiful Lady Lyanna Baratheon, who smiled and simpered while other lords congratulated Robert; she could be Lyanna of Winterfell again and to the Seven Hells with any man who thought the Starks were dour or Northern women ill-bred.

The Stark siblings were known for their wildness and horsemanship, but Brandon seemed determined to show them as the equal of any southerner as he led her through the complicated sequence, straight-backed and handsome. As she turned she could see others looking, especially the ladies. Brandon's rakish smile grew wider, he was clearly enjoying the attention, but she had to grin at the sparkle in his ice grey eyes. _I am a wolf amongst the hens._ They said.

Lyanna prayed to the Gods old and new that no hen let herself get caught tonight, as Cersei Lannister looked like she wanted to be. She had a sudden vision of Brandon making off with Tywin Lannister's golden daughter and likely Catelyn Tully as well, giving armies of the Rock and the Riverlands a merry chase back North before the snows closed in.

"Smile, sister. You're still my favourite."

This time she giggled. "That's what you tell all of them!"

The Hall echoed with their laughter as the rhythm of dance carried them onward, singing to the wolf blood in their veins.

 _I love you too, brother._ Lyanna thought as she matched Brandon step for step. _I love all of us, but you best of all._

At the end of the first chorus, he bowed again, placing her hand into that of her next partner's and Lyanna felt the crushing embrace of Robert Baratheon.

"You aren't supposed to hold your lady so tightly, my Lord." She chided playfully, even as her heart sank a little. She'd forgotten this was a dance of many partners.

"Aye, it might not be proper." He said. "But I can't risk losing my beloved again. Besides you are irresistible."

"Am I?" She said, stopped his hand from venturing any further down her back and placed it respectably back on her waist. His breath sank of wine and his eyes were bloodshot but they also shone with the same mischievous gleam as Brandon's so she decided to forgive him.

The song was about true love and a lost maiden and although it had a thrilling tune, it seemed to make her betrothed maudlin.

"Whatever you've heard, my Lady, know that I will treasure and honour you to my dying day." Robert said, his deep voice thick with more than drink.

Lyanna stared up at him, becoming aware of how gently he was holding her hand as if he might break it as he spun her around - a complete difference from a few moments ago.

"I believe you." She said, surprising herself. Hadn't she told Ned that love was sweet but it wouldn't change his friend? Yet there was an intensity in Robert's blue eyes, something that spoke of loss and grief.

 _Of course, he lost his parents when he was young._ Lyanna thought. _Saw them drown in front of him._ She allowed herself to move a little closer and smiled at him. He returned it and for the first time they moved in harmony.

 _Perhaps this marriage might not be doomed after all…_

"I suppose leaving you to a Kingsguard and the best knight in the Seven Kingdoms is just about enough protection." Robert grinned as he reluctantly passed her over to Ser Arthur Dayne.

"I assure you, my Lord, she is safe with me." Ser Arthur smiled and bowed over her hand. Lyanna felt light-headed and not because of dancing.

 _The Sword of the Morning!_ Her head swam. _I'm dancing with the best swordsman in the world!_

She beamed at him and the serious knight had to return the gesture, such was her enthusiasm.

 _He probably thinks I'm swooning over him._ Lyanna thought, amused, as she clasped the hand that normally held Dawn. _Little does he know how much I wish this was a spar not a damned dance!_

She could see Dorne's pommel over Arthur's armoured shoulder, close enough to touch. She was so distracted trying imagine what a sword fight with him would be like, she almost tripped over his feet. Mortified, she quickly corrected herself but on the next turn caught a smirk from Lady Cersei, who Gods forbid was nestled in Brandon's arms. Lyanna's brow set as she determined to show them all she wasn't some uncouth girl from the North.

The chords were swelling now and her eyes dared the Kingsguard until he spun her faster. Her laughter rang out again. It may not be a duel but he was a good partner and for a moment she felt she owned the room - King, nobles and all.

"Ghost of a Rose…" The singer cried as the music rose and Lyanna's dress swirled out as she leant back, her full weight on Ser Arthur's extended arm. He pulled her back into a turn and then inclined his head.

"Well danced, Lady Stark." He said. "Your Grace." Then he placed her hand in another's grip before catching another partner and spinning away.

 _Your Grace?_ She thought, perplexed before looking up into haunting purple eyes.

Heat shot through her as she met the gaze of Prince Rhaegar Targaryan, then the final chorus caught them as she was drawn into his arms. She couldn't take her eyes from his. Her body felt cold, like the heart of winter but the hands that held her were warm, almost burning.

 _You're being a silly girl._ The thought crossed Lyanna's mind but it was distant and foggy. She was being swallowed by those eyes.

 _What_ is _this?_

She no longer consciously followed the forms of the dance, allowing her body to flow with his into the music. It was as if something else moved them, but he never once took his eyes from her even as he turned her in tight circles.

They moved through the arch made by the other couples and parted, dancing singly down the lines but Lyanna's whole skin tingled like he was still holding her. Another man caught her hands, but she couldn't tell who he was. Even though the Prince was on the other side of the huge chamber now she felt him as if they still danced as one, following his every movement with her mind.

 _Silly, silly girl…_ She tried to pull herself back. _Worse than Ned._

 _"_ I love you so…never let go…" The song told her. "I will be…your Ghost of a Rose…."

The music rose to the vaulted ceiling on ecstatic waves and she found herself back with Brandon, who winked at her but he seemed dim compared to Rhaegar and his hands were cold. Lyanna shivered and after they made their final bows Brandon looped his strong arm around her shoulders and led her back to the Stark table.

"Lyanna, are you well? I thought the She Wolf had more stamina than that." He joked but she could see his concern.

"I'm fine." She said, taking a deep breath and feeling foolish. She took a draught of her wine as she seated herself. Ned was looking even greyer than when they had left him but he went beet red when Brandon announced to the entire table that Lady Ashara wanted to dance the next with him. Lyanna tried to join in the general merriment but her eyes kept being drawn back to the royal dais. The Prince had returned to his wife and Lyanna hated herself for the sudden jealousy she felt.

 _You judge Robert, Oberyn and Brandon and yet you want to steal the only good man here._ She thought. _You_ are _a silly girl and Brandon's right, clearly nothing good comes from dancing with dragons…_

She took another long drink before placing her cup down at a stern glance from her father. Lord Stark had clearly not been as impressed by her dancing as the rest of the room. There would be words later. Again…

Trying not to roll her eyes, Lyanna glanced back at the high table and found the Dragon Prince staring at her. That lightning bolt went through her again and unlike Robert or the Red Viper she could find no snide thoughts. The night couldn't end sooner enough.

...


End file.
